Awakened
by kaoruhimura89
Summary: Through the blood of a human sacrifice, Tomoe is resurrected. Now, Kenshin must face his unearthed past, and Kaoru use her latent gifts to lay her back to rest... But not without Enishi there to interfere.


id:7786447

Author's Notes: Enishi's obsession with Tomoe in the manga borders on incestuous, so I've taken the self-appointed liberty to tweak the hell out of their relationship.

And I'll apologize for Yahiko's predicament ahead of time, though I guarantee he'll be more significant in this story than he regularly is in fanfics.

In this story: Zombies, ghosts, vampires, necromancers, cairvoyants, death.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. Or any zombies, ghosts, vampires and other supernatural beings, though it would be nice to.

**Dead of Winter**

**By Izzy**

A dead boy hovered by her bedside, gazing down at Kaoru as she awoke from yet another outlandish, chaotic dream. He wore the same black button-up and black trousers he had when buried, his family having rendered a suit too costly and impractical when amounted with all the other funeral expenses. His hair had been gelled and combed down for the funeral, had resumed to its naturally unruly state by the time they had lowered the coffin into the earth, and was as he currently had it and preferred it to be.

As for the rest of him, the bullets that had exploded through his left lung and lower ribs had left scars hidden under what was merely the projection of clothes. His skin, or rather the semblance of it, was not as translucent as one may expect it to be of a phantom. The boy was almost fleshy-looking, though Kaoru knew that he in fact had no flesh.

An average person would have been alarmed at the sight of him, perhaps even screamed when they'd registered his ghostly appearance, but Kaoru merely let out a disgruntled sigh.

"There's no need for hovering over my bedside," she said through her pillow, "I said I'd help you when I could."

The young boy frowned at her and shrugged. "I had nothing else to do. Can't touch anything."

"Takes practice." She threw the covers off her and sat at the edge of her bed, rising slowly to stretch her arms out while yawning. She looked at the boy. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to shower. I can turn on the television for you downstairs, if you'd like."

The boy shrugged again, and looked towards the mirror. In it was reflected herself, a girl who many had referred to as striking and exotic, with long raven hair braided like rope and blue eyes that had the orient tilt of her lineage. She was slender and toned, partly due to good genetics, and partly due to a healthy combination of a vegan diet and martial arts. Part of her bed was visible too, or rather, several donated mattresses stacked together and wrapped in Minnie Mouse sheets she'd had since childhood, now in upheaval due to its occupant's restless sleeping habits. A poster scripted with Poe's The Raven hung on her wall. She knew Poe was a bit cliché where supernatural writers were concerned, but she loved him anyway.

All these things reflected on her mirror except for the dead boy. Unlike zombies and vampires, ghosts were pure spiritual energy without a physical shell to substantiate them, so to reflect something that was not substantial, not tangible, was as impossible as reflecting the wind or mind.

"Go to the living room. I'll turn on SpongeBob or whatever it is you watch."

"I never liked SpongeBob. And you probably don't get the channel that shows it. You don't have dish."

She strode towards the living room and picked up the remote, switching on the T.V. A celebrity singer with an impeccable visage was cheerfully promoting a famous zit-fighting medication to the general audience. Kaoru flipped through the channels.

"I choose to be able to eat over unnecessary luxuries."

"Organic food is an unnecessary luxury."

"An Xbox is more so."

"Actually, we had a PS3. Xbox is for pussies."

"As an avid feminist, I resent that statement."

A corner of his mouth quirked. It was one of the rare occasions where he almost smiled, and even then they were usually either filled with sarcasm or mischief or sadness. She couldn't fault him for that. From what he told her, she gathered that there had not been much to smile about even when he'd been alive. He'd come from a broken family. His father had died serving in the armed forces when he was an infant, and his mother had descended into alcoholism shortly after his death. It was brother he had looked up to, and it was essentially because of that admiration that Yahiko, as the boy was named, was killed.

Now for nearly four days since he'd realized that she could see him, he had been relentlessly following her, egging her to speak to his family on his part. She hadn't gone around to it mainly because of work and also because of the fifteen credits worth of classes she was regretting to have taken.

Kaoru paused on a channel she thought befitting for a pre-pubescent dead male.

"Now, I'm off to shower. You know what NOT to do."

"Watching your roomie shower sounds much more appealing," he said to her back.

"If you had a pulse, I'd punch you."

/

On a mild January winter's day, shoe tracks marred an otherwise impeccable slate of fallen snow. What made these tracks distinct was that, unlike the usually clumsy and sloppy tracks left by people who had difficulty trekking snow, these tracks looked neat and purposeful, as if their source knew exactly what they were doing. They marched up in a resolute path to their destination, winding around some of the stone monuments erected about the Japanese graveyard to stop at a particular marker.

It was towards this grave that Enishi was heading, and he did so with fury that mounted with each hurried step he took. He had a fairly good idea who it was that had been there before him. There was no one else who could have left those wretchedly effortless shoe tracks on snow as deep as this. Unlike the previous visitor's footsteps, Enishi's were not as effortless though he did hold his own on the snow. As he angrily stomped to his destination, he deliberately ran over the other shoe prints like a snow plow to erase them.

When he got to his beloved's resting place, he let out a vicious snarl.

Incense burned at the foot of the stone monument that bore his beloved's name, the sticks not yet halfway burned to indicate that the previous visitor had left not too long ago.

So the coward had decided to come back after all. Enishi knew he eventually would, though for all the spying and contemplating he'd done over his dastardly rival, he was unprepared to handle the emotional onset that the sight of him being near his beloved's grave brought.

Without a second thought he grabbed the incense burner and flung it to the nearest grave. It shattered against the stone. Crushed it with his boot, the glass grinding against the stone, digging into the soles of his show.

"This man, this vermin," Enishi said, his voice crackling fire, "has no right to visit you." He kicked what remained of the incense and burner to the snow, whipping his body back to his beloved's grave. He knelt by it, unrelenting to the coldness of the stone on his knees as his body racked with anger and anguish. The kanji etched onto the headstone melted and coalesced into each other, tears forming in his eyes.

"You were so beautiful, so perfect. You were my world." He clutched the headstone, clutched it as he had when he'd begged her to stay. "You were my world, and he took it away."

The tears bit his skin like ice crystals, but he paid no mind to them. He had wandered to another place, another time, when she'd been his without reserve.

Their bodies as one, mingling scents, exchanging essence, sharing moans. Her skin as soft as rose petals, the taste of salt and white blossoms on his tongue.

"Enishi," she said, and he worked his hips faster, relishing the sounds she made in response.

He was awash in the smell of her perfume, the sweet and pungent mix of sweat and sex. The way she whimpered as he entered her, poured all of him into her, every drop of soul and love and ecstacy.

And then, she was his no more.

"You smother me."

He begged her to stay, and when she refused, he grabbed her arm, threw her forcibly against the wall. How dare she. He had given her everything, all of him, she couldn't leave. She was HIS.

And then, she wasn't.

"I love another," she told him, pity twisted in her face. Pity for him, the kicked puppy. "My love for you is gone."

Gone.

A presence, pulling him back into the now, the images disappearing like melting snow. A pair of delicate socked feet in sandals appeared before him, not touching the ground, giving way to a long white kimono that draped beautifully over what had once been an impeccable body, and was still, except for it was no longer corporeal.

Dark, forlorn eyes looked onto him, as they always were, the mouth set into the same regretful frown. Ethereal, her skin pale and translucent, blending with the snow, beautiful even after death, after life.

"Tomoe." His expression was worshipful, her name like a prayer when he spoke it.

Expression, unchanging. Perhaps a deeper sorrow when the name was spoken.

"Why won't you speak to me?" He'd been asking the wraith the same question for ten years, and always the same response.

Her eyes closed, shaking her head slowly. Her image was become foggier, more transparent.

"Is it because I have yet to exact my revenge? Have I let you down?" He scrambled closer to her, reaching out, his fingertips a breath's away from her before she evanesced into thin air. She never let him touch her. He wouldn't have to been able to feel her tangibly, but how he so desired to have his hands go through her spirit.

But he would have his hands on her again, he swore it.

/

Work was at a locally owned sushi bar and grill called Akabeko in Uptown on the corner of Lyndale and 3rd. The owner of the Akabeko happened to be her aunt, who had agreed to hire her under the condition Kaoru would not assault any of the costumers no matter how insufferable they behaved. Kaoru agreed to her terms with the exception of sexual harassment involving lewd comments and physical contact, in which case she would not hesitate to throw a tray full of beverages onto the client's lap.

So far, no one had attempted to slap the volatile server's behind though many had indeed eyed it. She'd find phone numbers scribbled on napkins left at her table or get oogly eyes and compliments from some of the male costumers.

She usually worked morning weekend shifts to accomadate her academic agenda, but on occassion would make an exception to work weekday evenings when submerged in desperate ecomomic hardships. Tonight was one of those nights, and was already starting to regret having done so, particularly due to an adolescent spikey-haired poltergeist hovering over her shoulder.

He had been curious about what she did for a living and decided that harassing her at work would be more entertaining than idling at her apartment watching mediocre sitcoms. What was most frustrating was that she couldn't retort to any of his derisive comments or opinions regarding her serving ability and clientele unless no one was around, and when she did she had to speak very subtly and quietly or someone might notice and think she was having a conversation with herself again.

"Fat chicks eating spring rolls is just hilarious," Yahiko said looming over her clients' food, whom were both severely overweight. "What she'd really like is to dive into that beef teriyaki," his voice changed into a more forlorn one, "I know I do. "

Despite the boy's obvious lack of sensitivity towards the obese, not for the first time she felt sorry for him. He would never again eat the food he loved or even be able to smell it. All his senses were obsolete save for that of sight, and occasionally and with practice, that of touch, but neither sense was like it had been when alive. But feeling sorry for him wasn't going to help him transcend to the other realm. Only very few in this world could help him, and she was one of the very few who could. If it weren't for the fact that most ghosts were too attached or afraid to wander elsewhere the site they died at or felt closest to, she would have a lot more of them following her around. One time she had five tailing her.

"So when are you off again? I'm really bored."

She exasperatedly took out the notepad she used to scribble orders and very promptly wrote, "Seven! But I still have to do kitchen work so we'll be heading out closer to eight."

She was mildly annoyed at the young poltergeist but had had more insufferable ghosts stalking her even at work. Like the creepy cult suicide "victim" with a sexual fetish for anything rubber (developed from a good experience involving rubber boots earlier in his lifetime) that had had the hots for her.

Yahiko looked at the clock ticking over the tray panel. It read 4:32 p.m., an hour past since she clocked in. "Ugh. I'm just gonna go ahead and leave. See you later." He disappeared like fog, and to what destination, she had no idea.

She went back out to check on her tables, and noted that a new costumer had been sat at booth 30. Even from a few feet away in a dimly lit area Kaoru could see that the client was pretty. She wasn't entirely sure if it was the long fiery hair that did it, but the client had an androgynous look. Were it not for the black button-up and strong jaw-line, he could have at first glance passed as a woman. As she approached him, it hit her. An ethereal aura emanating from the stranger, billowing in dark sheets of power. And though he did have an aura, he had no pulse. The life that clung to him was not that of his own but that of another force that sustained his existence, as well as that of the energy he fed off others.

Though Kaoru had encountered several vampires before, she had encountered only one other vampire stronger than this one felt, and she had the distinct feeling that he was not revealing his full power. Most vampires, especially the older and more disciplined ones, had learned to veil their powers to avoid luring in other vampires and deadly creatures. Few of them were aware that people such as she existed, and had no way of knowing who was a necromancer- one who could raise the dead- or clairvoyant- one who could see and speak to the dead- unless they actually fed off them by way of blood or energy. She hoped to God he was not a rare psychic vampire.

Stomping down the urge to turn around and run back into the pantry, she resolutely took the last few steps to get to his table and asked, "Hello, how are you today?"

He looked up at her, and felt most if not all of her courage plummet. His eyes were a haunting violet, like the last remnants of a setting sun. In them swirled what looked like shards of amber, as if the sea of violet harbored fire in their depths. His eyes were not what mainly threw her on edge. It was that, for the briefest moment, when his eyes had met hers, she felt something fly out of her, as if a wisp of her essence had been pulled out of her and now was swirling inside him like moth in a windstorm.

His eyes went wide with surprise, and then his mouth pulled into what looked like a polite smile, but was quite unnerving.

"I'm well, how are you miss…" he looked at her name tag, "Kaoru. Not every well, it seems," he said, noting with his eyes her quivering hands.

She grasped the notepad more tightly and swallowed the dryness in her throat. "May I start you off with any beverages?"

His eyes remained on her face. She looked intently at her notepad. "I hear the sake here is good."

"Alright, sake it is," she said, not bothering to scribble it on her notepad and scurrying away before he said anything further to her.

She forgot about the other tables she had to check on and all but ran towards the bathroom, nearly bumping into one of the clients as she swung open the door. Her whole body was quivering as she leaned against the sink, practically hyperventilating over it as she struggled to reign in her equilibrium. Her blue eyes looked very big in her pale face, her black hair impossibly darker.

He had _tasted_ her.

He had sampled part of her essence and had done it so swiftly, so expertly, that he had already swished it around his mind like a fine wine before she could fully process what had happened.

She switched on the faucet and splashed water onto her face, watching the rivulets run down like tears. As she regained her composure and her shock began to subside, anger started to rise.

He had _violated_ her.

She killed the faucet and stomped back into the pantry, preparing the goddamn sake for the leech. Though she had never in her entire eight-month career of being a waitress had she ever purposely sabotaged someone's order, she contemplated spitting in the vampire's sake.

That would be truly unwise, she thought, he probably would only get more of a sample out of you through your spit, if that's even possible.

She walked out with his sake and all but slammed it down onto the table.

He raised a brow, a slightly abash smile on his lips, like he knew he'd done something wrong but wasn't too regretful about it.

"That all?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Okay, then," she said, and then went to check on the other tables before returning to the kitchen.

She was soon pounced on by Akane, the youngest and the only other server on besides herself.

"Oh my god, who is that guy at 30? He is friggin' sexy."

"I dunno, some pretty boy."

"You didn't ask his name?"

"I'm not gonna hit on him."

"I would."

She could have asked Akane to take her table, but then that would be very unprofessional of her as well as inconsiderate of her. For all she knew, he could've done the same to anyone of her coworkers and decided he liked the taste of them so much, he'd come back for more at some point, more likely during a time they were alone. No, she would not expose her comrades like that, no matter how ditzy and superbly annoying they were.

Since all of her tables were in the middle of dining she decided to roll some silverware in the meantime. The knives and forks clanged against each other as she wrapped- more like choked- them in merciless napkins.

That accursed vampire. How was she supposed to handle such a being now that he had an idea of what she might be? And did it matter? What use was that of a necromancer to a vampire? Perhaps her energy would be extra delicious or rejuvenating or whatever. She paused at the last thought.

Crap. She probably would be very delicious and nutritious for him.

She did not go back to check on him. She industriously ignored him when he lifted a finger for assistance, checking all other tables except his. She didn't care if he didn't tip her. She just wanted him out of there.

She made sure to carefully maneuver herself as far away from him as possible as she drifted by him, and gasped when she nearly slammed into him. He had appeared in front of her like a ghost.

"Miss Kaoru, I would really like some more sake." His tone was infuriatingly almost apologetic, "It is delicious." There was something about the way he said delicious that threw serpents down her spine.

Though he was surprisingly not much taller than she, probably five foot five, even without her ability to detect the undead and their powers he still bore a commanding presence to anyone who would encounter him. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Evidently everyone was too enraptured in their food or conversation to have done so because they simply continued without paying them the slightest attention. Except for some of the servers had finally noticed and were looking their way. Burying her face in sand sounded quite appealing just then.

An empty pot of sake was handed to her. She took it and dashed back into the pantry.

Though she knew the sake wouldn't be affecting him, she knew that if he continued ordering people would question how it was he was not noticeably smashed.

She came back and placed the pot on his table without a word.

"Thank you, Miss Kaoru." He said to her back.

He watched her walk away appreciatively, a petulant cadence swinging her hips.

The girl was a spitfire, sassy and beautiful, but that was not the reason why he'd been initially enticed. Vitality shined off her from all directions, among the brightest he'd ever encountered. He knew she would be delicious even before he tasted her, and she was indeed delicious. But among that vitality he found something that alarmed him: traces of death, albeit not from her. They were fragments of lost souls that clung to her the way certain smells clung to the walls of a home. Not a part of her, but attached to her.

He took a sip of his sake. It ran down his throat, bitter and dissatisfying, nowhere near as rich as blood. He was fairly certain that Miss Kaoru's blood would be rather delicious and energizing. But as good as blood tasted it didn't provide him the power that pure human energy did. Blood was a necessity, he needed it to survive. Human energy was something else entirely.

She came back, a crinkle between her eyebrows that he found to be a bit amusing. He supposed he couldn't blame her. Clairvoyants were very touchy people when it came to their gifts, if she was indeed a clairvoyant. There had been something else about her, a dark undercurrent of deliberately contained power that intoned something from beyond that of the spirit world. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, and he wanted to find out. Perhaps he needed to have another taste…

She came back with his bill. He hadn't requested one.

"Excuse me," he said before she was too far to speak without yelling.

She paused, reluctantly, and turned.

He was going to say that he wanted another pot of sake, but decided to go against it. "Never mind."

She looked a titch irritated as she gave him his back, her mare bobbing as she returned to her duties, including ignoring him.

At the register, a vapidly pretty girl who seemed to be the only non-Asian employee and whose named tag red Jess, smiled at him, which he returned, though not nearly as flirtatiously.

She had the mildly obnoxious nasally lilt of a suburbanite. "How was everything for you?"

"Good, thank you," he said, handing her the exact amount of change.

"Only sake today, huh? You should try some of the food next time. It's really good."

"Perhaps I will," he said, knowing he sure wouldn't. He looked at the doors separating the kitchen from the lobby. "Excuse me, may I have one of those black books there please? I'd like to leave her tip at the table."

"Sure." He took the black book used to keep bills in, and surreptitiously slipped in a fifty dollar bill and placed it on the table he'd sat in.

It had been the worse service he ever had, but it had been worth it.

Hope you enjoyed it. Please R&R. Next installment being currently worked on.


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